Des Couleurs
by infinite vertigo
Summary: Artists see and feel everything in colors. Seven drabbles of the colors of the rainbow. Violet: "Don't keep me waiting, brat."  "I wouldn't dare, danna." A new beginning after a violet colored end.  Romance SasoDei
1. Red

**.disclaimer: don't own.**

_**.color: **__red._

_**.genre:**__ romance, angst._

_**.word count**__: 1,804._

_**.summary:**__ he would not shed red when he died._

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><p><strong>.red. <strong>_the color of fire and blood; associated with energy, war, danger, strength, power, determination as well as passion, desire, and love_

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><p>Deidara hated the color red.<p>

He hated everything about it. Red was such a harsh color unless it was diluted with white. It disrupted the balance of a painting and it had the potential to ruin something that was perfectly beautiful. It symbolized anger and death; it was a horrible color that reminded him too much of what he didn't want to remember.

Red were the clouds of the Akatsuki, the organization he was forced into.

Red was the Sharingan of Itachi, the man who mocked his art and so easily humiliated him with a blink of his eye.

And most of all, red was Sasori, the partner than Deidara had been assigned to and the one that never revealed himself until five months later.

Deidara's first reaction was confusion yet admiration upon seeing Sasori. Had Pein not told Deidara that Sasori was a puppet master and traveled in Hiruko, the terrorist bomber would have assumed that his partner _was_ Hiruko, the human-looking man on all fours with a giant mask on his back. When they first met, Deidara had smirked and bent down and glided his fingers over the side of Hiruko's face. He saw the eyes glance at him and he narrowly avoided a stab from the poison tipped scorpion tale. The person inside seemed satisfied, as he said, "_He will do."_

It was a low gravelly voice and, as Deidara would find out later, Sasori used a voice changer. That way no one would ever recognize it was him unless he chose to reveal himself. Deidara landed safely on his feet a few feet back and Pein watched this impassively. The blonde had straightened up and smirked.

"_Your art is beautiful, un."_

"_I'm surprised someone as young as you can appreciate art."_

They worked well together; Deidara controlled the sky and Sasori dominated the land. His dislike for red even faded away slightly after Sasori stepped out of Hiruko for the first time. Immediately Deidara looked at the fiery hair but instead of feeling loathing, he noticed how the brightness contrasted against Sasori's pale, wooden face. His brown eyes always held a mischievous glint; Deidara would always feel that Sasori had a smirk present in them. Somehow, the red interior of the Akatsuki cloak and the clouds didn't seem as vivid as they did on Sasori. Deidara found that he was captivated more by his partner himself than the red that was everywhere.

He noticed Sasori would carry out missions without Hiruko more often; he would actually be walking next to someone that wasn't crawling next to him. When he asked him about it, Sasori simply answered that Hiruko had been badly damaged when he used him last and needed many repairs. However, Deidara saw Hiruko and he seemed fine; there wasn't a single scratch on him. But Deidara had no complaints because he loved seeing Sasori.

Sometime during their arguments about what art was and the relentless teasing, he had fallen in love with the puppet master. He admired the Sasori's skill in puppetry; when he first saw the one hundred puppets that Sasori could control he was in awe at both the puppets and his skill in maneuvering them. He admired Sasori's dedication to his art, going so far as to make himself his art in the eternally youthful and almost invincible puppet body. He would worry about the container with his heart but Sasori was confident he could never be defeated. He admired the bluntness of Sasori, how if he had a problem with something he would directly say it and not sugarcoat it, especially when he was critiquing Deidara.

He fell in love with the epitome of red and he didn't mind. He even began to decide that red wasn't such a bad color after all. Sasori was short tempered and Deidara found it amusing to irritate him. He even found the messy red hair endearing at one point; he loved to stare at it until Sasori noticed him and asked him just what he wanted. One day, he had decided he had resisted temptations enough. He lifted his hand and ran his fingers through a few strands of the silky hair agonizingly slowly. Sasori had put down the scroll he was reading and turned to Deidara, frowning.

_"What do you want, brat?"_

_ "Danna, what would you do if I told you I fell in love with you, un?"_

Sasori had stared at him before returning to his scroll and began reading it again. Deidara moved back against the wall, crossed his arms, and closed his eyes. He hadn't expected any kind of reaction from Sasori; all he wanted was for him to know. He was in an organization where death was highly probable and murder was the job every day. In a place where death was constant and life was fleeting, there simply was no point in growing attached to someone. That was one major reason why Deidara simply couldn't understand Sasori's view on art; how could he hold onto the belief of eternity when he saw how fleeting everything in the world was? Perhaps he could be eternal but everyone around him certainly was not.

Sometime in his daydreaming, Sasori had moved over to him. He felt the cool band of the Akatsuki band against his face as Sasori's hand cupped his head and leaned in, briefly pressing his lips to his partner's. It was cold and wooden, just what he had expected, but that didn't matter so much as the idea of what he had done. Deidara's eyes had opened slowly and stared at his danna, the brown eyes glinting and smirk present on his face.

_"If that were the case, then, I would make sure you never left me."_

Such empty words. They held no meaning; promises couldn't be made and kept in the Akatsuki. Life was fleeting, death was imminent, promises meant nothing. Deidara remembered hearing the Konoha shinobi talk about Sasori's death and he couldn't believe it. His danna, killed by a pink haired chuunin and an old lady? It couldn't be right, he thought as he raced back to the cave he had left Sasori in. Everything was a blur as leaves and twigs scratched at him; the pain of the loss of his arms was numbed as he kept going forward.

When he arrived there, all he saw was red.

Red hair on the puppet against the wall, held by some kind of a jutsu.

Red hair on the dead Sasori with two knives through his heart.

Red was the kanji on the container, the one that used to keep his partner alive.

Red was the shirt of the pink-haired girl who killed him.

Red was the cloak that he donned, the moments before his death.

Red was the blood that pooled everywhere; with each passing second and each drop of blood, more of Sasori died.

_"You promised we would never leave each other, un."_

He stood there numbly and stared at the empty puppet body, the red pool of blood expanding and reaching his shoes. It was empty; he realized with a dry laugh. _Sasori_ was never in there; that was a body of Sasori was a teenager. The real Sasori was never there; the minute Sasori converted his body into a puppet, he had "died." The container that stored his heart wasn't Sasori; Sasori was more than an organ. He had stupidly fallen in love with someone that technically didn't exist.

_"So much for art being eternal, danna, un."_

The red was overwhelming and he suddenly gasped for air, feeling as though he was suffocating. "Sasori" truly was all red, from his hair to his personality, now to his life that was slipping away from him as it expanded over the rocky terrain. He was all red. The red hair and the red personality made Deidara fall in love with him. The red blood that was leaving Sasori and taking his life with him reminded Deidara of how much he loathed red.

_I will not shed red when I die,_ Deidara had thought bitterly as he watched the blood puddle continue to expand. He tore his eyes away from the scene and returned to the forest in search of his missing arm with his Akatsuki ring. When he found it, his eyes had first noticed the strange masked boy. Not his mask or even how he was holding Deidara's arm; his eyes had focused on the red scarf around his neck, blowing gently in the breeze.

_Red._

Deidara hated the color red. It made him fall in love and it took away the most important person to him. It caused him to go on a roller coaster of emotions. Sometimes he had felt so overwhelmed with Sasori; all his feelings wanted to explode and he thought he couldn't handle it. Then the emotions clawed at his heart the weeks after Sasori's death; he never felt more torn up over something. He had felt at the top of the world, but he felt like he was in the bottom of the ocean for far longer.

When he saw Uchiha Sasuke, he instantly saw the color he hated so much in front of him. Red was the color of the Sharingan which dragged him into the Akatsuki and forced him to meet Sasori. He wanted to see red blood around the Uchiha and watch the Sharingan fade into a never ending black.

_"Now, cower in awe!"_

As he fed his clay to the mouth on his chest, he grinned maniacally as he watched the horrified expression on Sasuke's face. It was just what he wanted: those Sharingan eyes wide with terror. This was perfect. He vowed to not shed red when he died and this way there would be nothing left of him; he wouldn't be found in a puddle of the vile, red substance. He would become his art; he would _truly_ become his art. Not like Sasori who ranted about eternity yet died, proving that even he was fleeting. However Deidara would die in an explosion, the epitome of his art.

_"Shout in despair!"_

He hated the color red. It reminded him of what he once loved and what he lost. It reminded him of everything he hated. The only exception was now gone; Sasori, who seemed to embody everything Deidara hated, had convinced him that there was an exception in everything. However he was gone; he hated _everything_ about the color red.

_"Because my art… is an EXPLOSION!"_

And he was gone in the biggest explosion he had ever created. There was nothing left of him and of the Uchiha; those eyes would be lost forever. Anything red within a ten kilometer radius was gone. Obliterated, extinguished, demolished.

_I will not shed red when I die._

**Author's Notes: I'll be going in the order of the rainbow, so suggestions are very much appreciated. I haven't written angst in a while, but I think this turned out quite well… thank you for reading, please review!**


	2. Orange

**.disclaimer: don't own.**

_**.title: **__orange._

_**.genre: **__romance, general._

_**.word count:**__ 4,241._

_**.summary: **__orange makes sasori incredibly jealous_.

**.thank you to Seru-chan and death2society for the ideas in your reviews; I decided to mesh them together for this one. noth suggested Tobi (I can't believe I didn't think of that) and death2society added that orange "symbolizes creativity, warmth, joy" and suggested the two doing art together. thank you to both!.**

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><p><strong>.orange. <strong>_the color __combines the energy of red and the happiness of yellow; associated with joy, sunshine, happiness, creativity, determination, and attraction_

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><p><em>"Brat, wake up."<em>

_ Deidara opened his eyes slowly and rubbed them, frowning at the interruption from his sleep. It was a Saturday and as far as he was concerned, he had no missions to carry out with Tobi. Who in the world would dare wake him up so early? And only one person would call him 'brat' and that person was gone, he realized with a pang. Immediately, he brushed it off. _I have to get over that, un. Danna's gone.

_ "What do you want, un?" Deidara growled and flipped over, burying his face in the pillow. It was probably Tobi, using a voice changer and messing around with him again. Of all the people he could have had as a partner, Fate brought him the epitome of stupidity in the form of Tobi. He missed Sasori dearly; he'd almost rather be berated all day for his slowness and immaturity than have to continually waste clay on bombing Tobi into oblivion._

_ "You're as rude as ever to me, brat," a dry chuckle followed and Deidara shot up. Strands of blonde hair obscured his vision and hurriedly, he ran his fingers through his hair. His blue eyes were wide with shock as he stared at the person by his bed side. Looking past him, Sasori's old bed (he absolutely refused to let Tobi move in) was as crisp as ever but there was a neatly folded Akatsuki robe on top of it and it showed signs of being disturbed. His gaze traveling back to the figure and the bomber's mouth dropped open as he gaped at the smirking face. He never thought he'd see the red hair or brown eyes again except in his dreams._

_ "…Danna, you're not taking me to the underworld with you, right, un?"_

It had been a week since Sasori mysteriously showed up in his room and Deidara still stared at him in awe. It was like nothing ever changed as he watched Sasori converse with everyone else. The only difference was that Tobi sat at the same table and the Sasori's thumb no longer wore the Akatsuki ring. Pein had said that, for the time being, Sasori would not be allowed out on missions for two reasons: people would be in an uproar seeing a supposedly "dead" Akatsuki member walking around and Sasori was now human and Pein didn't want to risk him dying again.

When Deidara asked Sasori how he came back to life, the redhead smirked and shrugged his shoulders. _"A puppet master always controls his puppets"_ came as the simple answer. Deidara tried to ponder over it for a few days; Sasori was indeed a puppet master as well as a puppet, so the sentence made sense. However, his ex-partner refused to divulge in any secrets and Deidara had let the topic slide. He was just glad Sasori was back, even if they couldn't be partnered up and he was still stuck with the squirrel-brain of a partner he called Tobi.

Except that one morning call by Sasori, the two rarely had a chance to talk to each other in private. They talked to each other briefly but Sasori was usually kept occupied by Pein or the others who were informing him of what he missed while he was "dead" and Deidara had Tobi hanging off his waist at almost any given moment. He hated it; he wanted to spend time with Sasori to make up the times of solitude, but he couldn't. There were things he never had a chance to tell the puppet master and now he could, but something was always in the way.

He sighed and rested his head on top of his folded arms on the kitchen table. Pein had finally realized what a burden he was putting on Deidara by sending him on missions with Tobi for six days in a row and he now had a day off. Tobi was off somewhere in the base and most of the others were out, whether doing missions or for their own enjoyment. He had no idea where Sasori was and Deidara decided to take this moment to relax.

What he wanted to tell Sasori was something that would probably cause him quite a bit of ridicule. Itachi and Kisame would probably smile in amusement, Hidan would tease him relentlessly, Kakuzu would roll his eyes, Tobi would insist on helping to "hurry things along", Zetsu would half crow with laughter and half contain it, and Pein and Konan would raise an eyebrow. And Sasori? Well, Deidara wasn't sure he would want to imagine Sasori's reaction. The puppet master didn't have many facial expressions to begin with, and Deidara certainly didn't want to discover the new one of repulse. He could handle nonchalance, it would be okay if Sasori dismissed what he felt. He could handle amusement, he wouldn't mind if Sasori found it entertaining. But what he didn't want was for Sasori to be disgusted by him or think of him any lower. As far as Deidara was concerned, Sasori hated emotions. That was one of the reasons, he had told his younger partner once, why he had made himself into a puppet. Puppets feel nothing and a true shinobi has to feel absolutely nothing.

_So is it my fault I'm in love with you, danna?_ Deidara thought lazily and closed his eyes. When Sasori had died, he thought his whole world had shattered. He made it a personal goal to kill the Haruno girl if he could; he wanted her to die slowly and painfully like his danna did. But then Sasori had returned and beneath all the happiness he had felt, he felt nervous. He was almost thankful that he never had a chance to tell Sasori of his feelings but now that he was alive, he knew the ex-Suna nin would find out eventually.

"Brat."

Deidara cracked an eye open and looked up, grinning as he lifted his head at Sasori, who returned his grin with a smirk. "Danna, un. I thought you were out or something or in your workshop playing around with Hiruko. It's been a while since you've been able to do that, un."

Sasori shrugged as he pulled a chair out next to Deidara and sat down next to him. "There are only so many improvements I can make to my puppets if I'm not allowed to go out in them. I find it odd that I've spent ample time with everyone except you," he added and glanced at Deidara, a rare, soft smile on his lips, "You want to go do something together?"

"Hm? What, un?" Deidara asked as Sasori stood up. Standing up as well, Deidara followed him towards the room they shared together. Sasori remained silent as he entered and opened two drawers of the bureau, taking out a piece of clay and a block of wood. As he turned around, Deidara expected to receive the clay but received the wood instead and stared at it incredulously.

"…Danna, it's been a while, but I work with clay, un. Remember?"

"Moron, I know that," Sasori sat down on the floor and took the clay out of the packaging. Before it reached the ground, Deidara caught a glimpse at it and cringed. _Of course danna would absentmindedly pick the C3. Note to self, do not detonate anything, un._ "Art. I'll try yours. You try mine."

"Are you finally coming to your senses, un?" Deidara smirked at the idea and sat down on the floor across from him, thankful that he finally had a chance to spend time with Sasori alone. "After you've died once you realize that life and art aren't eternal after all, un?"

"Don't push it," Sasori growled and his eyes flicked upwards for a moment. Deidara laughed softly and leaned over, taking out a knife and scalpel, sliding the latter over to Sasori. He watched the other's face and raised an eyebrow; Sasori seemed to not enjoy the soft texture of the clay. However, likewise, Deidara was definitely not used to the rigidity of the wood in his hands. He was used to being able to mold things easily and without any tools. He picked up the knife and poked at the wood experimentally.

"Did you really die from those two, un?"

Sasori looked up in surprise at Deidara's question. The blonde was still preoccupied with the wood, holding it up to inspect it. He continued speaking nonchalantly but never took his eyes off of what he had to work with. "I doubt someone like Sasori no danna would die from a chuunin and an old lady, un."

"The old lady was my grandmother," Sasori answered simply. "She raised me. She knew my weaknesses."

"But your skill was far above theirs, un," Deidara countered stubbornly. Ever since that day, he refused to believe Sasori had died because of his lack of skill. It took someone extremely powerful for Deidara to acknowledge them as stronger than him and his art and he had placed Sasori on that pedestal; to him, very few people could be stronger than Sasori.

"I suppose I did let my guard down at the end," Sasori scowled when the clay split in half as a result of his tugging. He hated this stuff; how could his partner stand it and cherish it so much? He probably even ate it in his spare time. "The puppets of my parents distracted me."

"So you were lonely, un?" Deidara officially hated wood and wanted to drive this knife deep into anything made of it. Suddenly, he was very glad Sasori was no longer a puppet. _Damn block of wood won't do crap, un,_ he muttered mentally, and momentarily gave up as he set the knife on the floor and tossed the wood around in his hands.

"More like reminiscent," Sasori, unlike Deidara, was not about to give up so easily. He had a second chance at life and he wasn't going to waste it by concentrating solely on himself. He wanted to understand the partner that he had grown quite fond of (though he would never admit it) and the best way was to experiment with his "art." "My parents were right there in front of me and I supposed I wanted to be with them one last time." It was true; at the end of that fight, Sasori did let his guard down. No matter how much he claimed he hated emotions and didn't feel anything, he did. And that was why he eventually became kinder to Deidara (in his own subtle way) and why seeing the puppets of his parents tugged at something within him. In one selfish, blinding moment, he had given in to what he wanted and allowed himself to be killed. Only moments before he felt the knives go through him, did Deidara flash through his mind. But at that point it was too late and he regretted it ever since.

"Nice way of expressing love, un. Knives through the heart," Deidara smirked, commenting offhandedly. After escaping Team Gai's attempt to kill him (he surprised even himself for being able to fight them all off with no arms and a kunai in his mouth), he had gone to the cave before looking for his arm. He remembered standing in front of the empty puppet, watching the blood seep out of the container. Unspoken words lingered before them and even then, Deidara couldn't make himself say it. Eight letters, three words, one expression. He had never said it before and he sure as hell wasn't going to say it when the one meant to hear them was dead.

"Senpaiii!"

"Quit your blabbering and get the hell out, un!" Deidara snapped at Tobi, who appeared in the doorway suddenly. Tobi looked at the two, both of whom were staring back. One pair of eyes was glaring daggers into him and the other was staring at him with no emotion whatsoever. Behind his mask, Deidara could almost _hear_ the sulking and the quivering lips. Exasperatedly, he rolled his eyes and glanced at Sasori. Though apart for several months, Sasori could still decipher his partner's looks. This particular one read _prepare yourself._

"Senpaiii! Are you leaving Tobi for Sasori-san?" Tobi wailed as he collapsed onto his knees and brought his hands up to his mask and began sobbing. Deidara found it useless; it wasn't like his hands would even do anything. The mask would hide all the tears anyway. "Senpai wouldn't even let Tobi move in!"

"Of course not, un!" Deidara growled, feeling Sasori's amused expression on both of them, "Like hell I'd share a room with you!"

"TOBI THOUGHT WE HAD SOMETHING SPECIAL."

"Tobi, you are a blubbering, asinine, moronic cretin, un. Get lost!" As he heard Tobi wail in despair and scuffle off, Deidara returned to the block of wood in his hands. While conversing with Sasori, he had made a couple of scratches here and there experimentally but no definite shape was taking form yet. It was hard, working with wood. All his ideas were too complex to be done with a knife for his first time; even his signature birds would be too much of a hassle to create. He frowned and let out a sigh; now, more than ever, he missed his clay.

Sasori's eyes flicked up to the door where Tobi was and smirked, returning to the clay he was messing around with. It was too soft for his liking; he hated having something change shape so easily as he played around with it in his hands. There were several reasons why he loved working with wood but one of them was that in fits of frustration, he could throw it at a wall and expect more damage to the wall than the wood. For this material, whatever he had created would definitely be ruined. Glancing at Deidara, he watched the bomber stare at the wood as he kept rolling it around with a finger, as if waiting for it to change shape. He laughed softly under his breath and ignored Deidara's raised eyebrow. He never thought he'd see this day where he would willingly experiment with Deidara's "art" and allow Deidara to mess around with his precious wood. It seemed almost ironic to Sasori how he and Deidara, the two most stubborn people he knew, would willingly make an exception to their beliefs in art and try out the exact opposite form.

"I'm jealous of him, you know."

"Hm? Who, un?" Deidara asked and looked up. He reached for a knife and held it with his right hand and looked at the block of wood with his left. He didn't have Sasori's skill nor that kind of patience so creating something as fine as his danna's puppets was out of the question. But he did see Sasori occasionally hack away at a piece of wood with a knife and something pretty spectacular would always be the result. He finally decided that he would try that and see how he ended up. He wasn't too worried about cutting off a finger; it probably didn't hurt as much as losing an entire arm.

"Tobi."

"_What, un?_" Deidara cursed himself for his last thought, as the knife just stopped millimeters before his thumb. He glanced at the warm sensation on his arm and found Sasori had grabbed it; he probably knew Deidara would do something as careless as that. The redhead looked up and smirked at the dumbfounded expression. It was rare to find Deidara at a loss for words; he always had some kind of a snippy remark ready at the tip of his tongue.

"He's your partner right now," Sasori answered simply and released the arm, returning to molding the clay. Every time he saw that orange mask, he felt a surge of jealousy through him as Tobi threw himself on Deidara and the two stumbled awkwardly out of the base. He always reprimanded himself for being so childish; of course Deidara would get a new partner after his death. Pein wouldn't let him carry out missions by himself and he wouldn't break up a newly formed partnership just because Sasori had selfishly died and came back to life with no warning.

Ever since he gave into his emotions that one battle, he had found himself being more sentimental lately. Perhaps it had to do with the fact that he was now in a human body, but he still _felt_ more. He would realize he was happy and sad, angry or calm, annoyed or amused. He'd feel annoyed whenever he was approaching Deidara but interrupted by someone; annoyance became his main feeling. These people just didn't get that the revived Sasori just wanted to spend time with the partner he had stupidly left behind in one moment of self-absorption.

Sasori liked logic. He used logic back when he was a puppet; it guided every battle and his everyday life. So it was only fitting that he realized he was in love with Deidara through deduction, not because of the overwhelming feelings. Because not wanting to kill him, wanting to be with him, not wanting him to die, and wanting him to stay eternal with Sasori could only mean one thing: he was in love with him. Sasori didn't have a stomach for the butterflies to ravage and he didn't have skin to feel goose bumps rise all over. But he did have a heart and brain, and that was enough to figure it out.

He cast his eyes down and resumed to toying around with the clay, ignoring Deidara's incredulous look. It was a revelation to learn that both of them disliked that Tobi stood in the way of how they were in the past; Deidara had thought Sasori was perfectly fine with wandering around the base aimlessly and watching the newly formed duo bicker as they left on a mission. He smiled slightly and looked down, feeling a warm feeling spread throughout him. He liked that Sasori cared that they were partners. He liked that Sasori didn't disregard him, that he still cared about him. What Deidara was afraid of was being treated like Orochimaru by Sasori. Every time the name came up, a murderous and loathing look would cross the puppet master's face and Deidara vowed to never be the reason for that look.

"What the hell is that supposed to be?"

Deidara's thoughts were interrupted as he looked up to see Sasori staring at the carved piece of wood in his hand strangely. He looked down as well at what he had absentmindedly done and raised an eyebrow, grinning. He hadn't come up with any specific idea to carve out so he went with his gut and let the knife do the work. It was crude and the edges that were meant to be curved were still sharp and defined and it looked like something Sasori would've made as a prototype of a prototype, not as a final product. But Deidara was satisfied with it.

"Guess I made a mushroom cloud, un. It's an explosion."

"You made an _explosion_ out of _my_ art?" he asked incredulously, "What are you, obsessed?"

"Says the one that made a puppet out of my clay, un," Deidara retorted and gestured with his chin towards the object in Sasori's hands. Sasori's smirk slipped as he looked down and for the first time that day, actually looked at what he was making out of the soft, pliable clay. His art did look more well done that Deidara's carved block of wood but he had to admit, clay was easier to manipulate, despite it being too easy for his liking. The material was soft and bent more readily and no hacking was needed. He frowned and held it up, staring at it, hearing Deidara's triumphant laugh.

"See, danna, un. I'm not obsessed, it's innate. You made a _puppet_ out of _my_ art, un," he said smugly, grinning. "I guess no matter how hard we try we can't change how we are, un."

"Yes we can."

"…Huh, un?" Deidara looked up in confusion to ask a question to see Sasori in front of him suddenly. The agility that he had while a puppet obviously hadn't left him, the small logical part of Deidara's currently haywired brain decided. They had been this close before, usually because Sasori would drag Deidara into Hiruko to escape an enemy that was surprisingly strong but Sasori radiated warmth for once. _He's really human, un,_ Deidara thought incoherently. His heartbeat began to quicken and before he could realize what was happening, Sasori had pressed his finger to his ex-partner's lips softly.

"Shh," Sasori hushed him and smirked, "You were always annoying when you talked." Leaving no time for a retort, he leaned forward and kissed the bomber softly and Deidara felt him smile just before he pulled back. He was surprised how electrifying a kiss could be; after being in a puppet body for so many years, he was just starting to get used to being a human in that week. Slowly, he was getting used to the normal human needs like hunger and if it weren't for the fact that he liked it so much, he would have regretted kissing Deidara because his nerves felt they had just been overloaded, like electricity just went through every single nerve in his body.

Meanwhile, Deidara felt he had just stupidly touched a live wire while drenched in water and was now completely fried. He stared at Sasori stupidly, his expression of shock the exact opposite of Sasori's normal, placid look. The latter smirked suddenly. "I don't want to be like how we were before. I don't want to only be your partner, the one that you carry out missions with. I want to be the person that you care about more than anyone else." These feelings, ones that Sasori never expressed, came rushing out of him suddenly. As the words lingered in the air, he felt as if a huge load was taken off of him and he could breathe more easily now.

Almost everything had changed when Sasori came back; there were a lot of differences between having a puppet and human body. But one thing that stayed the same was his temper; he was still as impatient as ever and right now, watching Deidara's mouth gape like that of a fish's and not answering what be as close as a "confession" that Deidara would ever receive, his temper had snapped. "Are you mute, brat?"

Ignoring Deidara's dumbfounded expression, Sasori sighed reached moved away from the frozen nineteen-year-old. He opened one of his drawers and was pleased to find it as organized as it had been before he died; Deidara had obviously taken care to keep everything clean and just as he had left it. Reaching in, he retrieved a blue tube of paint and looked at it, nodding satisfactorily. He stood up and began heading towards the door, only stopping when he heard Deidara start stuttering.

"D-danna, un."

"Hm?" Sasori turned around and leaned against the doorframe. _He's still blushing,_ he noted mentally, seeing the still vivid red blush on Deidara's normally pale complexion. The ex-Iwa nin looked up at Sasori and opened his mouth but nothing came out. For once, Sasori didn't mind waiting for him to gather his thoughts; it was painfully entertaining to watch him struggle like this.

Words were running through Deidara's mind but none of them slowed down enough for him to form a coherent sentence. Did Sasori just kiss him? Why? Did he mean it? What was he thinking? What should he do now? Deidara couldn't grasp what had happened and had a feeling it would save him some of his dignity if he chose to accept it. Questions could always be asked later; all that mattered right now was that he was relieved and thrilled that something was working out for him. He never dared to imagine that Sasori might feel something other than annoyance towards him and he was glad he didn't; whatever feeling he would have imagined feeling would never be the one he was feeling right now.

"W-what are you going to do with that paint, un?" he tried to ask nonchalantly as he cleared his throat and willed the blush on his face to lessen. He finally managed to look up at Sasori and instantly felt his heart jump at the almost murderous looking smirk appear for a split second. However, it disappeared and Deidara was left wondering if it really happened and what would happen to the poor person Sasori was going to go find right now.

Sasori glanced at the tube of paint in his hand lazily and tossed it up in the air a few times, watching it spin. As he pushed himself off the doorframe, he shrugged and looked back at Deidara, smirking before he turned around to leave. The murderous smirk was back again, Deidara noted with slight panic. He had seen this look when Sasori looked at a strong shinobi that he wanted to add to his collection of puppets and all Deidara could do right now was thank the deities that Sasori was leaving the room, indicating he had no intentions of doing whatever it was he was going to do with the paint to him.

"I don't like the color of Tobi's mask."

**Author's Notes: Next up is yellow and, of course, my first thought is Deidara's hair… now I'm deciding between doing that (the obvious idea) or something else… any ideas? Thank you for reading, thank you for the lovely reviews for the last one, and please leave a review! **


	3. Yellow

**.disclaimer: don't own.**

_**.color: **__yellow._

_**.genre:**__ romance._

_**.word count**__: 3,426._

_**.summary:**__ he would be the marionette and let yellow control him._

* * *

><p><strong>.yellow. <strong>_the color of attention and spontaneity; associated with joy, happiness, intellect, and energy; indicates honor and loyalty_

* * *

><p><em>One.<em>

Everything about him is yellow; he commands attention, he is fleetingly happy, he always wants to do something, and his loyalty towards Sasori never wavers. The day Sasori and the two others went to recruit the famed Deidara for Akatsuki, Sasori's eyes widened from inside Hiruko. A dim light was cast over him and the bright light from the door behind him made him look almost ethereal, casting a shine on his hair to make the blonde look a brighter shade of yellow. Even his aura just seemed so _yellow_; it was bright and so energized. So much so that Sasori wanted to shrink away because he felt he would be completely overshadowed by it. He had come along because Pein said this person would be his new partner and he was mildly curious as to what kind of a person he was.

He doesn't even like the yellow to begin with. It burns his eyes in great concentrations. Sasori doesn't like how yellow taints so easily and how the lighter shades are just simply impossible to see when the brush glides over his perfectly crafted puppets. Yellow is either too brash or not noticeable enough and Sasori doesn't like to waste time to find that perfect shade. He has better things to do than to try to achieve the perfect shade of yellow. It was an all right color at most. Sometimes Sasori gets lucky and mixes just the right amount of white in to reach that color that does not blind him and still shows up on the wood. Other times he gives up and moves onto another shade. Yellow is an easily replaceable color. A bit darker results in orange and a bit lighter results in white. Yellow is not a necessity to Sasori.

That's what he thought until he began to work with Deidara.

Sasori is a colorful person. Perhaps not in his choice of attire, but when he is not on a mission, his hands are covered with colors from painting. Dark hues of blue, red, green, brown, orange, purple stain his slender fingers and clothes; paint splatters show evidence of mixing colors in a frenzy to achieve his desired color. He is a colorful person and his puppets are proof of that. Sasori's world consists of color; every shade had a place. Colorful is more than one color, and Sasori uses the entire spectrum.

That's what he thought until he began to work with Deidara.

Deidara, as a fellow "artist", utilizes colors too. However, Sasori refuses to acknowledge that Deidara is just as colorful as Sasori was. Deidara's spectrum involves mainly the warm hues of red, yellow, and orange. Those are the colors of his explosions that Sasori watches as Deidara smirks smugly and nods in satisfaction. Occasionally, Sasori sees Deidara paint something, but even then, the darker colors are taken straight from the tube and splashed onto the canvas nonchalantly. Deidara takes care in mixing the warm hues to get just the right shades, but the others aren't even given a second thought. And for that, Sasori should believe that Deidara is not colorful, for his art palette revolves around mainly three colors.

Yet, somehow, Deidara just _radiated_ color. His eyes are a dazzling blue, his clay leaves bits of beige all over his body, he is so young and green. His radiating innocence makes him white, his passion makes him red, his superiority complex makes him violet. He is every shade of the rainbow, yet Sasori doesn't see that. When he looks at Deidara, he sees one color and one color only.

Yellow.

_Two._

Sasori's eyes flick over his shoulder as he hears someone walk in and close the door. Heaving a sigh, Deidara walks over to his bed and sits down after he sheds his Akatsuki cloak and leaves it on the floor messily. Shoes and socks are lazily pulled off and the blonde hair is let down from its ponytail before the bomber lies down and closes his eyes, never once uttering a word to Sasori. He wants rest, Sasori realizes, and he returns to his work, and a soft smile tugs at his lips. He hears a yawn and his eyes idly glance over, smirking as he sees the blonde stretch and not bother to cover his mouth. _Typical of him._

His bed is the exact opposite of Sasori's. Sasori's is white and neat; the blanket is always folded into an eighth of its size and placed perfectly at the foot of his bed; the sheets are never creased and they are always pristine and folded exactly. The pillow is always fluffed and both are stacked on top of each other neatly. The beige blanket and white sheets never have a single displaced item on them; not even a strand of vibrant red hair can be seen. Occasionally a strand of long, blonde hair would be seen, but Deidara was learning to not be so careless on Sasori's bed.

Deidara's bed is messy. The bed is never made, the sheets are crumpled, the pillows are tossed wherever Deidara's subconscious demands; the blanket is always left in a pile against the wall. Colorful pillows, stuffed animals, extra blankets are scattered around on the bed and on the floor; whatever Deidara feels like sleeping with will be on his bed for weeks to come. His bed is like a blank canvas with splotches of color on it and Sasori's is neutral; a contrast against what Sasori believes is their sense of color.

Yet, it all makes sense to Sasori.

He is a calm person; despite how colorful his art can be, Sasori's personal aesthetic is very neutral. He lives in a calm world; bright colors that disrupt his peace have no place in his universe. He likes to control things; with a single flick of his finger, his puppets do anything he commands and a single look can control almost anybody (Deidara was an annoying exception to this). Bright colors did not come under his control easily; red can be too bright on an otherwise peaceful puppet, orange can seem too harsh, and yellow is simply uncontrollable.

Deidara is yellow in every aspect.

He is yellow, like the sun; full of energy. He does not bounce off the walls with hyperactive energy, but Sasori can sense it. The way he looks at new clay or watches an explosion; he can feel the energy radiate from him with so few words. Always ready to do something, Deidara is never one to slack off, yet he finds it amusing to keep his danna waiting. The energy is an attention getter; Deidara loves attention and craves it. His explosions are meant to express and they garner the attention he desires.

The energy couples with an everlasting grin that is always at least subtly present; it is not always present on his face, but Sasori always senses a proud grin in his partner. Somewhere inside of him, Deidara is always happy for some reason; he has the ability to find something good in everything, something Sasori thinks is one of his positive points.

For some reason, yellow represents intellect, and Sasori never understood why until he met Deidara. The teen is clever beyond belief; under the presumptuous attitude lies a sharp mind. From his way of handling others or his strategies in battle, quick thinking and logic are the only explanation for his behavior. He acts silly and immature, yet he is tricky and always surprises Sasori in some kind of manner.

But what impresses Sasori about Deidara the most is his loyalty. He has experienced betrayal before; when Orochimaru left, that sense of anger has never left him and he thought he would never be able to trust someone that much again. Not only did Deidara convince him otherwise, he also realizes that he cares more for Deidara than he could have ever imagined caring for Orochimaru. Despite the risks of dying or possibly losing the chance to ever produce his art, Deidara never leaves his partner in a time of need. If Sasori needs help, Deidara was always there and ready to defend him to the end.

The brown eyes leave the puppet he is working on and glances at Deidara. He is lying still on the bed with one arm covering his eyes and the other across his stomach, but Sasori still feels the energy radiating from him. He scoots his chair back and moves over to the bed and hovers over Deidara, watching him quietly. The pale skin of his arm is interrupted by the transplant that Kakuzu had to use to reattach Deidara's arm, and stitches lined both arms. He never understood Deidara and his recklessness; he could not imagine losing the most important thing to produce his art.

The arm slips slightly and Sasori looks at the face that he found himself falling in love with. The crystal blue eyes are closed and the blonde hair splays across the white pillow artistically. The mouth is slightly agape as each breath he takes is visible with the steady rise and fall of his chest. The fingers are curled slightly over the mouth palm, lips parted faintly in a similar fashion. Sasori smirks as he traces a finger along the bottom lip of the mouth palm and he sees the hand twitch; the fingers suddenly tense up and the breathing stops momentarily.

_Three._

Deidara has three mouths; one spouts words about his art and the other two literally spout his art. At first all three irritated Sasori; the words used to be like mosquitoes buzzing around his ear. It was a constant hum that never left him alone. But soon habituation took its course and he now barely notices the insanity of the words Deidara speaks about art being temporary and fleeting; he has grown accustomed to hearing the low voice spout such garbage and is amused by the absence of logic instead of annoyed.

The mouth that incessantly babbled at all hours of the day would eventually be silenced with a kiss and the mouths that created the "art" would be paused with Sasori's palms pressed against them. Obnoxious and loud, even Deidara has his weak points. He was so yellow; from his energy to the yellow undertone of his skin to the yellow strands of hair that Sasori would absentmindedly run his fingers through.

Sasori rests his chin in his hand with his elbow on his knee and runs his eyes over Deidara. His fingers of Sasori's other hand ghost over the smooth skin of Deidara's arm and a smirk forms on the "sleeping" man's face, but no words leave the curved lips. He refuses to give Sasori the satisfaction of knowing that he is successful in his objective, but the sudden hitch of his breath gives it away as Sasori's nimble fingers glide over the thin fabric of his shirt over the bomber's chest, lingering for a few moments over the mouth that is sewn closed. The mouth on Deidara's chest is a mystery to Sasori and almost acts as a forbidden fruit; the blonde never talks about it but has never told Sasori to not touch it.

The redhead smirks and he crawls on top of his partner. One hand is used to keep him up and the other continues to trace anything he desires over the erratically rising chest. He knows his partner is still conscious as he watches Deidara bite his bottom lip as Sasori's fingers continue to trace over the sealed mouth on his chest.

_"I warned you, didn't I? That if you wanted me, you would have to be my puppet."_

Sasori speaks in a low, hushed voice and a single blue eye opens, smirking weakly.

_"I don't care about the risks, un."_

The words come out in a whisper and Sasori smirks simply.

_"You'll regret saying that, you know."_

Deidara lifts a hand and pulls at Sasori's cloak, unbuttoning the garment one by one. With a single tug, the cloak slips off and lies on the ground in a heap close to Deidara's. The blue eye zooms in on the heart container and a finger glides over the surface, tracing the kanji. A smirk creeps onto Deidara's face as he senses Sasori tighten his grip on the pillow next to Deidara's head. As he lowers his head and rests his forehead to the pillow on the other side next to Deidara, he hears a throaty chuckle emerge from the lips right by his ear.

_"It's fun to see you lose control, un."_

Sasori hears the words and feels the warm breath tickle his ear ever so gently. He lets out a dry, amused chuckle and hears Deidara's questioning 'hm?' faintly. His grip on the pillow relaxes slightly as Deidara's last words ring in his head.

He does love control; Deidara's art is about minimal control and watching the impromptu and Sasori's is all about control. Deidara fights with immense, fleeting force and Sasori fights with planned, articulate movements; they both fight with "art" yet they are as opposite as can be. They are like fire and water, air and earth, but their styles complement each other. Sometimes a brute, sudden force is required and followed by precise attacks to take down the opponent after he receives the initial blow. Or perhaps vice versa, when they decide that they want a grand finale to their "masterpiece."

Deidara, oblivious to Sasori and his wandering thoughts, lies on the bed and looks up at the ceiling lazily with a soft smirk playing on his lips. He loves the feeling of his partner pressing against him even if there is no warmth; he has grown accustomed to the cold, hard puppet body and has come to love it like he loves Sasori.

_"Dann-_ah_."_

A gasp is elicited from the lips as Sasori gently moves his lips against the smooth skin of Deidara's neck, planting kisses every so often. A smirk finds its way to Sasori's lips and Deidara feels it against the crook of his neck. He bites his lip and he closes his eyes, sinking into a haven that is so calming yet so nerve wracking. Sasori has an uncanny ability to make Deidara feel so safe and relaxed yet so on edge; the redhead is so unpredictable that even Deidara, who lives for spontaneity, tenses up from it.

Sasori feels the body beneath him breathe tentatively and shake ever so slightly. He pulls back and looks at him, noticing the flushed cheeks and half lidded blue eyes that mirror his own. Sometime during Sasori's ministrations had the blonde fringe been pushed back from the face, revealing both azure eyes. One eye almost looks darker than the other due to being trained so excessively to see through genjetsu, but anyone besides Sasori would not see the difference. He loves to stare into Deidara's deep eyes; they are so lucid, so clear, so breathtakingly beautiful.

_ "Yes, brat?" _

A smirk spreads over the thin lips as he watches his lover beneath him struggle under his firm grip. Long, _yellow_ hair splays in all directions against the soft, crisp white covers and pillow. A breathy moan is heard as Sasori bends down and grazes his lips over the crook of Deidara's neck again, over the sensitive skin. The smirk widens as he hears Deidara almost whimper beneath him

_"K-kiss me, un."_

Never one to keep anyone waiting, Sasori obliges and leans down to brush his lips against Deidara's quivering ones, knowing full well that the blonde cannot possibly be satisfied with that chaste kiss. One look at Deidara's glare confirms his thoughts; the blonde seems even more flustered and irritated than before now.

Something about the look of irritation pleases Sasori. Sasori likes to be in control; he likes to control his puppets easily and feel the power rushing through his veins. He likes to know that he can control even the most stubborn person he ever met so easily and with such a light touch; that he has such power over one of the most powerful shinobi to emerge from Iwa.

_"Danna, un."_

The eyes are clearer now as they smirk at Sasori, as if to taunt him. _You know that's not what I wanted, danna._ He is so easily read; after a few months of being partners, both can read each other better than anyone else. Every look, every movement, every twitch has a meaning. The tone, now more firm and more commanding, makes Sasori's smirk widen ever so slightly; he likes it when Deidara gets frazzled.

As the puppet master, he loves control. Every limb, every movement, everything is controlled by him and he loves the feeling of adrenaline as he watches his puppets deliver the fatal blow with a single movement of his fingers. To control everything is the closest Sasori could get to making sure perfection was achieved.

But Deidara is not like his puppets. He is living, he is breathing, he is _real._ He isn't controlled by chakra strings; he is controlled by his feelings and loyalty towards Sasori. He doesn't bend readily to Sasori's will. In fact, occasionally he will resist and do the complete opposite and reverse the roles. And surprisingly, Sasori doesn't mind _too_ much. Because there is something exhilarating about letting someone else take charge and feel what his puppets feel; for, after all, Sasori is both the puppet and the puppet master.

_"Yes, brat?"_

_ "Kiss me, un."_

A command, not a request. A smug look, not a pleading one. An air of confidence, not a submissive one. Sasori smirks and bends down, his lips pressing against Deidara's. He feels the bomber's hands entangle themselves in his fiery red locks and suddenly, with a change of positions, _he_ is the one on the bed with Deidara over him, _he_ is the one that feels controlled, _he_ is the one who has to ask and wait.

_"Sasori no danna, un."_

_"What, you brat?"_

Deidara pauses and hovers over Sasori as he adjusts his newly found dominant position. The blue eye narrows with a smirk and Sasori feels the faint feeling of Deidara's fingers against his cheek. The brown eyes flutter close for a moment and when he reopens them, Deidara's smirk has widened, obviously enjoying the effect he has on the stoic puppet master. He brings two fingers up to his lips, presses them against the smirk and brings them down and presses them against Sasori's, who growls slightly in irritation.

_"You know that's not what I meant, un."_

_"Then don't keep me waiting, brat."_

_ "So impatient, danna, un."_

Deidara runs a free hand through his hair and looks around briefly before returning his gaze to the redhead pinned beneath him. He intertwines his fingers with Sasori's and the puppet master feels the mouth on the palm kiss his own palm softly as Deidara leans down and hovers over Sasori in close proximity; water stared into earth, never once wavering or faltering. The water danced with amusement, like playful tides washing up on the shore and the earth held sturdy, showing nothing.

_"You're not used to not getting everything your way, hm?"_

Sasori scowls in irritation and the free hand reaches up to grab Deidara's shirt to pull him down but the blonde's fast reflexes catch the hand and pin it above Sasori's head, like the other hand. Deidara chuckles at Sasori's annoyed glance.

_"The downfall of power is interesting to watch, un."_

Just as the puppet master opens his mouth to retort, Deidara leans down and presses his lips firmly to Sasori's, successfully silencing him. Just as Deidara's hands seem to grip Sasori's with more force, the puppet master feels every muscle in his body relax into the kiss. The puppeteer watches the explosion of colors: red for passion, orange for warmth, blue for chills, green for vibrancy. But most of all, yellow flashes before his eyes: yellow for joy, happiness, energy, and most of all, Deidara.

Sasori, as the puppet master, loves control. He loves it, lives it, craves it. But every now and then, he is willing to make an exception. To truly become a puppet master, he occasionally has to give up the role of power and understand what his puppets feel to better control them. Once in a while he will fall from his position of power temporarily and succumb to someone else, with now being such an instance.

He would be the marionette and let yellow control him.

**Author's Notes: Reading what yellow represents, it occurs to me that I should have written a happy oneshot. But I felt that out of all the colors, Deidara was best represented by yellow and since I had red represent Sasori, I wanted to do a parallel for Deidara. **

**Thank you for reading and if you have any ideas for green or any comments about this, I would love to hear them in a review!**


	4. Green

**.disclaimer: don't own.**

_**.color: **__green._

_**.genre:**__ romance, slight humor._

_**.word count**__: 2,772._

_**.summary:**__ nature used to be his solace… until there was sasori._

* * *

><p><strong>.green. <strong>_the color of nature; it symbolizes growth, harmony, freshness, and fertility and has strong emotional correspondence with safety_

* * *

><p>"Brat, I'm going to ask you this one more time. Are. We. Lost?"<p>

"…Not exactly _lost_ per say, un…"

"That's it. We're lost."

Sasori let out an irritated sigh and clambered out of Hiruko, giving Deidara an annoyed look as he pulled out sleeping bags. The nineteen year old rolled his eyes and ate some more clay from his pouches, producing hundreds of little bugs, which he sent scattering in every direction around them. They would go off if an unknown chakra approached them and, with a two mile radius, give the two Akatsuki members plenty of time to escape if needed.

Deidara hesitated before walking over and picking up one of the sleeping bags and unrolling it, watching his partner the entire time he did so. The last thing he felt like doing was being turned into a puppet in the middle of the forest. Sasori was currently working on a fire and refused to look Deidara. He was in his human form today, something Deidara found pitiful. Otherwise he would've suggested burning Sasori's arm or leg.

And then he'd have to fly away as quickly as he could.

The bomber rolled out both sleeping bags and placed them next to each other, with a separation of about three feet; close enough to jerk each other awake if they had to wake up to defend themselves, but far enough apart so they could pretend the other didn't exist. Deidara looked up tentatively when he heard a blaze, and was pleased to see the fire blazing away.

It wasn't dark yet but it was getting dim by the second. Probably late afternoon, Deidara estimated; they were returning from a mission in Suna (of course, Sasori was chosen because he knew the Kazekage's office the best and Deidara was infamous in Suna), when the blonde "accidentally" burned the map to a crisp when giving Sasori an art show. The redhead was even more irritated; he didn't even want to see the stupid art show to begin with.

So maybe Deidara burned the map on purpose so he could have time to talk to Sasori outside of the base where the word privacy didn't exist when Tobi was there.

And Tobi was always there.

And Deidara really needed to talk to Sasori.

And no matter how much candy he fed Tobi, how many explosives were set up in Tobi's bed, how many times Tobi would be carried off "by accident" on top of Deidara's clay bird, Deidara was never able to get a single _private_ moment. So he had to resort to the most desperate: beg for a mission, beg for a map to go on a way that they _had_ to go on so Sasori couldn't just lead them back, and then risk having Sasori hate him forever.

He still wasn't sure if the bet he made was worth it.

"Uh… danna?"

"Shut up and lay face down in the ground until you die."

Deidara had never been a very good gambler anyway.

The younger male sat down on his sleeping bag and took off his sandals, rubbing his sore feet. Since he knew that he was planning on getting lost, he made up some excuse as to not fly to save clay for tomorrow when he would have to use the clay bird to get back to the base. So he had resorted to walking alongside Sasori all day, resulting in sore feet. Deidara wasn't sure how Sasori crawled along; he probably made some kind of an engine and, for all Deidara knew, he could have been napping as they trudged along. He glanced up to see Sasori accepting a dead deer from the Third Kazekage puppet.

"…You sent him to kill a deer, un?"

"Do you want to eat or not?"

"…Thank you, un."

He sighed and watched the Third Kazekage puppet be returned to his scroll and red-clothed ones take over and make a stand for the deer to be cooked on. Deidara couldn't help but smirk; this was obvious favoritism between his puppets. Sasori used the best for the "fun" task (those puppets were just as bloodthirsty as Sasori) and used the minions for lowly tasks of gathering wood and making a stand. He sighed again and stretched, laying down on his sleeping bag. He folded his hands behind his head and looked up through the canopy of green leaves at the blue sky overhead.

Deidara, out of the two, was the nature child. Though he loved explosions that often obliterated forests, he still loved nature and its simplicity. The blue skies, the brown dirt, the colorful flowers, and most of all, the green leaves. Green was so vibrant; it represented life, freshness, and youth. Deidara liked to be reminded of youth because he was the youngest in the Akatsuki; something he was rather proud of. To be recruited for the infamous Akatsuki in his teens; that was a rather proud moment (now that he reflected on it).

"Danna, don't you feel safe in the forest, un?"

"No. We're lost and we don't know if we'll ever make it back to the base alive."

Deidara smirked, feeling relieved slightly. Though the tone didn't indicate it, Sasori wasn't as angry as before; he even glanced over his shoulder at Deidara. "The forest is like a protector, un. The leaves and the trees shield you; isn't that why we always camp out in the forest?"

"The forest or sleeping on a bird in the middle of a sky. Which would you prefer?"

"I like the forest, un. It's my playground."

At this, Sasori turned around and smirked, letting his puppets rotate the skewered deer in a continuous motion. "It's your playground? You really are an immature brat."

"Hm? You're not mad anymore, un?"

"Just waiting for the perfect opportunity to toss you in the fire."

Deidara rolled his eyes, but glanced around to make sure there wasn't a random puppet waiting to grab him. When he saw that they were all either cooking the deer or in a circle, guarding their camp, he relaxed and resumed to looking up at the sky. A flock of birds flew past and he smirked. "Birds, un."

"Excellent, you can identify animals."

His blue eyes turned to Sasori and glared, while the master puppeteer shrugged nonchalantly. He remembered why he wanted to talk to Sasori, suddenly, as they sat together in silence with only the crackling of the fire as their background music. He let out a slow breath to calm his racing heartbeat and looked up again, seeking solace from nature.

"So what does feeling safe mean to you?" Sasori spoke before Deidara could and the blonde looked over in surprise at the posed question.

"Being able to let my guard down… I guess, un. Anyway, danna, there's something…"

Deidara turned to face Sasori again but was met with nothing, except those stupid puppets that were still cooking the deer. He frowned in confusion and looked around for his partner—where could he have gone? He propped himself up with his elbows and looked around the clearing again, but saw nothing. He then faced forward, and he saw Sasori's brown half lidded eyes and smirk. Before he knew it, he was slammed onto the ground and he couldn't move his hands; his head vaguely ached, but that was nothing compared to the surprise.

Nature used to be his solace… until there was Sasori.

"Do you still feel safe?" Sasori smirked, pinning both of Deidara's hands above his head and straddling him. His knuckles were being dug into the ground and the small stones were digging into his skin, but he barely felt the pain as he stared into Sasori's eyes. He tried to keep his cool and act like his heart wasn't racing, but it was; he was shaking horribly and Sasori saw right through his façade. It was like the more he showed his nervousness, the more Sasori enjoyed it.

"D-danna, I need to…"

"Is this considered 'safe'? Do you feel protected by nature?" Sasori was thoroughly enjoying how much Deidara was squirming, and the blush rushing to his cheeks, and the refusal to look him in the eye. The smirk widened as Deidara finally looked him in the eye, glaring angrily.

"Da—"

"Hidan told me," Sasori interrupted him and he watched Deidara freeze and his eyes widen, "He walked past during the mission prompting and heard you begging Pein. So I know that you purposely made us take that three day route to Suna and then lost the map on the way back. So now I just have to know, why? Are you trying to convince me to desert the Akatsuki with you? Are you going to try to kill me because you knew I would be in my human form? Or…" he leaned in tantalizingly close, "…is there something you want to tell me?"

"Y-you're scaring me, un…"

"Oh? Does nature not comfort you anymore? Did you realize that you're not safe in the forest after all? That the canopy of trees and the lack of ability to see can be bad? That I could easily kill you right now and no one would know?"

Deidara's single, revealed blue eye widened as he watched Sasori take out a kunai and twirl it experimentally. The blade glinted in the sun and he peered at the edge, seeing a liquid of some kind. Instantly he went into panic mode; that had to be a poison, shit, shit, shit, why did he do this? He could've just picked a time when Tobi was asleep or have Zetsu eat him for a couple of hours; even if Sasori didn't return his feelings, he wouldn't have to _die._

"I could very easily kill you," Sasori repeated, and rested the tip of the blade on Deidara's forehead, right between his eyebrows, "So how's that for your safety? You let your guard down and you get killed; are you ever going to trust the forest again?"

Deidara remained quiet and Sasori frowned at this, as he watched the expression change from horror to realization to laughter. He refused to show the surprise, but kept the kunai there, making sure to not pierce the skin by accident. However, if Deidara's head jerked and he ended up with a scar below his forehead protector, well, that wasn't Sasori's fault, now was it?

"You don't plan on killing me, un," he said suddenly and Sasori raised an eyebrow, not showing the annoyance he felt, "You said if I would ever trust the forest again, indicating that I would stay alive to come into the forest again, un. That, and that's not poison on your kunai. You always use poison to paralyze; since you're a puppet master, close combat is probably your only weakness, so you use poison to paralyze your opponent."

"Not bad. I forget you're actually rather intelligent," Sasori removed the kunai and threw it to his side carelessly. He glanced briefly to the side and when he looked back down, he was surprised that Deidara was smirking rather confidently. "You're looking arrogant, brat."

"See, danna, nature isn't only my protector, un. It's also my partner."

"…Your partner?"

"That's right," Sasori's eyes widened as what he thought was Deidara turned into a pile of clay, but the voice kept talking, "My partner, un. Because it helps me to accomplish certain things. Hiding, for one, is obvious, un. But also for sneak attacks…"

"Like you could _ever_ surprise me," Sasori scoffed, but continued to look around for signs of the young bomber. He took a look at the puppets guarding their area and they didn't look out of the ordinary, meaning they didn't see Deidara either. He moved off of the pile of clay and looked around. He looked around into the darkening forest for a clay bomb being thrown towards him, up towards the sky for his signature bird, and below, just in case Deidara had already planted clay bombs here.

He began calculating in his head; Deidara was smart, whether Sasori liked to admit it or not. He was a keen strategist and clever, so the puppeteer couldn't help but expect a clever plan to take him down. He thought he had thought of every possible antic: being pulled underground, being lifted, being thrown into a tree…

In fact, the only strategy he didn't think of was the one that Deidara used.

An old fashioned body slam.

"Agh! What the _hell_, brat?"

"See, danna, I'd never kill you," Sasori now found himself in the same position he had Deidara in earlier, with his wrists confined and with the other straddling him and smirking down at him, "Because I'm not a psychopath like you are."

"I am _not_ a psychopath."

"Shall we discuss how you turned yourself into a puppet, un?"

"…That had to be done."

"Do you know why I tricked you out, un?" Deidara asked, his smirk widening at Sasori's deepening scowl, "Why I'm making you sleep outside when not necessary, risking your life because you're in your human form, exposing your precious Hiruko to the weather?"

"What do you want?"

"I wanted to tell you… something without words, un."

"If you're going to talk in riddles, I'm going to beat you to a pulp the minute you let me up. I cannot believe I'm stuck with you, I'd _almost_ rather have Orochimaru, that bastard, back as a partner…"

"I can do something Orochimaru can't."

"What, can you hit on an Uchiha without getting killed?"

"Better, un."

Sasori closed his eyes in frustration to calm himself and reopened them, preparing to yell at Deidara. But instead, when he opened his eyes, he saw Deidara's closed ones, in _extremely _close proximity. And then it registered that they were kissing, that _Deidara_ was kissing _him_, that they weren't trying to kill each other after all.

And for once in his entire life, he was glad he was in his human form. Because if he had been in his puppet body, he wouldn't have felt the warmth, the tingling, the "fuzziness," or the sickening but good feelings that ravaged him. Deidara drew back after a few moments, wide smirk on his lips, a devious glint in his eyes.

"How was that for a riddle, un?"

"The crappiest one I've ever heard," Sasori answered monotonously but couldn't help but smirk. In the Akatsuki, feelings weren't uncommon but they were very rarely openly spoken about. Except Tobi, the words "I," "love," and "you" were seldom put together consecutively in a sentence. Feelings represented weakness and no one in the Akatsuki was willing to admit that.

But they were clever shinobi and, with the exception of Tobi, anything could be communicated without words.

"Deer's ready."

"You know how you asked me if I still thought the forest was safe, un?" Deidara asked as he fell back to allow Sasori to stand up and head over to their dinner. The redhead nodded absentmindedly as he began prodding the deer, deciding how to cut it up. Finally, he settled on chakra strings and Deidara wasn't surprised to see that they worked better than knives did.

"I don't, un."

They were communicating as they usually did, but they both felt a different, softer atmosphere. Their fingers brushed as the leaf with food on it was transferred and they both hesitated momentarily. They still acted the same, but a shared secret hung between them; one that strengthened their bond. The acknowledgement and acceptance of mutual feelings hung over their heads and was reinforced every time they exchanged a glance.

Because being in love, having these kinds of feelings wasn't about flaunting them for everyone to see. They didn't have to hold hands, they didn't have to proclaim their affection, they didn't have to do everything together. They would very easily act as they usually did, and the only different thing would be that knowledge, a comforting fact for both of them, that they'd never truly be alone ever again.

"Hm? Did my attempt to kill you scare you that badly?" he asked and handed Deidara a leaf (the blonde raised an eyebrow at this) with part of the deer on it. Deidara shook his head, smirking widely again. His heart was still pounding, like it always was when he was around Sasori. But what made it more bearable now was the knowledge that Sasori's heartbeat was just as fast.

"Nature's less of my protector, more as my partner."

**Author's Note: Usually I have some sort of a plot as I'm writing, but this time I had none, so I just decided to make them chase each other around. I don't know if it worked or made for a really boring oneshot… hopefully it was still enjoyable. Thank you for reading, please review! **


	5. Blue

**.disclaimer: don't own.**

_**.color: **__blue._

_**.genre:**__ romance._

_**.word count**__: ._

_**.summary:**__ blue gives him a paradoxical feeling that he loves._

* * *

><p><strong>.blue. <strong>_the color of the sky and sea; associated with depth and stability; symbolizes trust, loyalty, wisdom, confidence, intelligence, faith, truth, and heaven_

* * *

><p>Deidara likes blue.<p>

That is his thought as he sits on his clay bird, soaring through the majestic blue skies over the deep, blue oceans. It is so peaceful and serene; he closes his eyes and tilts his face upward, breathing in the salty scent of the ocean air. There is nowhere he would rather be right now than between the sky and the ocean; it is his favorite place to be suspended there.

The sky puts him at ease. Heights calm him. Rare cases of vertigo make him happy. He likes to be out of reach, soaring high above the ground, looking down. He despises trudging alone on the dry, cracked earth that his partner is rather fond of. It hurts his feet and it isn't nearly as exciting as flying. Walking is so painfully ordinary; anyone can walk. Only shinobi can walk on water and on trees, no one can walk in the air, and few can _fly._ Deidara prides himself on being able to fly upon his own artistic creations; it sets him apart from everyone else, even in a group of outcasts like the Akatsuki.

He doesn't understand Sasori's love for the ground. It's so _safe_. Except for cracks and sudden changes in elevation, one is relatively secure on the ground. Deidara supposes it has to do with Hiruko; if Sasori is in that contraption, it would be rather hard to climb out and save himself if he were falling from something up in the sky. Hiruko, with its huge body, was actually rather hard to tip over. Deidara has tried on multiple occasions.

Deidara is a child of the sky. He loves to be among the vast blue skies, his own eyes mirroring the color. It is so liberating and it lifts him to an altitude very few others can reach. It is the one place he can be alone. It is a special thing and, thus, he does not frequently take others flying with him. In fact, there is only one person he would make an exception for, but that one person usually vehemently refuses.

But the exception makes exceptions too.

_"Danna."_

_ "Shut up."_

He laughs and sighs, continuing to gaze out at the scene in front of him. The bird's wings flap slowly and consistently, going at a steady and relaxing rate. The rhythm of the sound of the wings is soothing as the wind blows. He hears Sasori behind him shift; Sasori has chosen to look up at the sky and is lying down, whereas Deidara wants to make sure he sees the ocean too and, as a result, is sitting up.

The sun is beginning to descend, he realizes lazily. The horizon, that line between the deep azure of the sea and the light blue of the sky, is beginning to look like a hue of warm colors. He lays down and turns his head slightly to feel the red hair tickling his cheek. They are laying oppositely, so their heads are right next to each other, fitting like puzzle pieces into the crooks of the other's neck. Long strands of blonde hair intermingle with shorter strands of fiery red hair, mixing together like the hues of red and yellow far into the horizon, softly melting from the brilliant blue.

_"Brat."_

Long ago giving in to the nickname that he knows is for teasing purposes, the blonde turns to face his partner. Sasori turns his head slightly, smirking.

_"I can see the sky in your eyes."_

He blinks and laughs, returning to staring up just as Sasori does. Staring up at the sky, he suddenly wonders how it can make him feel so secure and insecure at the same time. Up there, somewhere, is a heaven; that's where they would all end up. Heaven, where nothing is wrong, where everything is perfect. When he flies, he is closer to heaven than anyone else.

It should make him feel calm, knowing that above him is the place he'll go if something goes wrong, is right there waiting for him. He isn't afraid of death, is he? He can't be, Deidara reasons. He is in the Akatsuki; an unspoken rule of joining the Akatsuki is that a fear of death is not tolerated. Murder is their job and death is the punishment; it is inevitable and they can't escape it.

_"Are you afraid of death?"_

He suddenly asks Sasori lazily. He receives no answer initially and decides to let the puppeteer ponder over it. Deidara is rather curious; Sasori had turned himself into a puppet to what, escape death? To prolong his life, eliminate any chances of being killed? He glances over and sees the heart container, revealed through the mostly unbuttoned cloak, smirking. He couldn't get rid of all his weaknesses after all, Deidara thinks, he had to leave one so that Sasori is still Sasori and at least one little part of him is human.

And Deidara is immensely thankful for that. He believes that, had Sasori not had that one human part, he wouldn't have fallen in love with him. Because how could he fall in love with a puppet? To love an empty shell, a doll? That heart symbolized the real Sasori; a beating, pumping, fully functional heart, making Sasori human and capable of being loved and loving.

_"No,_" Sasori answers after a few moments of thought, _"I'm not afraid of death."_

_ "So why did you make yourself into a puppet?"_

Silence again before the answer.

_"So I'd never have to leave you."_

Deidara laughs.

_"You're a sap."_

Sasori scoffs but gives no response.

Deidara stares up at the sky, a tiny smile lingering on his lips because of Sasori's answer to his question. On the very few occasions that Sasori agrees to go flying with him, Deidara enjoys it even more, even when they just lay together in silence.

Flying by himself makes him feel safe and in danger at the same time. He feels safe because of the vast blue sky and the knowledge that heaven is there, right over him, but in danger because of the altitude and the strong winds. Deidara isn't scared of heights or death; he supposes he's scared of leaving behind the person he cares more for than anyone else. When he is with Sasori, he is reminded of how human he is. Sasori is almost a complete puppet, save the heart. His skin is wooden to the touch, his limbs can be detached and reattached at will, and his eyes can look so empty at times. Deidara is fully human; his skin is soft and warm, when his limbs get cut off Kakuzu has to reattach them, and his eyes always portray some kind of an emotion. He is reminded of just how fleeting his life is, how multiple ways could end his life whereas Sasori's life would only be ended with a stab to his heart.

But even though when he is with Sasori he remembers just how easily he could die, when he flies with him, he feels so much safer.

On his bird, next to Sasori, he feels invincible almost. Not that being with Sasori would extend his life by any means; if anything, it would shorten it because Deidara would focus less on himself and more on Sasori. But next to him, that ethereal feeling gives him serenity. They are mutually in love and though rarely expressed and never talked about, just the knowledge sufficed.

Sasori made Deidara feel calm, happy, tranquil. He was his danna and the blonde respected him so much; he was willing to do so much for him. Looking over, he is suddenly overcome by the urge to brush his fingers against Sasori's face, even though he knows what to expected. Cold. Cold, hard, wooden. A puppeteer in a puppet body, that's what most people see him as. He is like a marionette doll, so pretty, so controlled by movements. But Deidara doesn't see him as a puppet; he sees him as Sasori, the artist that he respects and is so very much in love with.

_"Need something?"_

Sasori speaks, his low voice smooth, startling Deidara.

_"N-no."_

The redhead's smirk widens but he looks away, as does Deidara after a moment.

Sasori is red; Deidara had assigned him that color a very long time ago. Everything about him, his hair, his temper, his kanji; everything about him was red. What makes Deidara's heart race is red.

The sky is blue, the ocean is blue. What makes Deidara calm down and terrified is blue.

So it is odd that the combination of the two make him calmer instead of more terrified.

He supposes it has to do with trust. He trusts the sky to help him battle and not to suddenly change weather on him in the middle of flight. And, needless to say, he trusts Sasori, not only in battle or his secrets, but also his heart. He trusts Sasori to not abandon him in battle, to not divulge anything he may have told him in confidence, to not shatter him.

_"What if we fall into the ocean? I don't appreciate getting wet."_

The ocean.

Deidara had spent so much time looking up at the sky that he almost forgot of the vast blue sea beneath him. Far out into the ocean, away from the waves, it is so deep and stable; a very comforting thought in contrast to any turbulence he may experience on his bird. The ocean is so wide and so deep, with relatively calm waters. Looking at it from overhead calms him, but the thought of being submerged in it scares him.

_"I'll… I'll create a whale. So we land on top of him."_

He hears a rare, genuine laugh from Sasori and Deidara can't help but smile in response. Next to him, he feels Sasori shift and suddenly his vision of the sky is obscured by Sasori hovering above him, an obscuration he doesn't mind. The redhead leans down and his lips brush softly against the blonde's, in an almost ticklish sensation as he pulls back, brown eyes half lidded, lips curled up into a smirk.

Deidara blinks before smiling up at him, bringing his hands up behind his head and folding them there.

_"Danna, do you still hate flying?"_

Sasori raises an eyebrow at this question but answers, nonetheless.

_"I would never willingly go on a contraption like this if I could help it, no."_

_ "Don't you think the ocean and sky is calming? They make you feel safe?"_

Sasori rolls his eyes and scoffs, as if what Deidara just suggested is the stupidest thing he ever heard.

_"No. It's unstable and terrifying; you could die if you fell from this altitude and you would drown in the ocean. I don't trust the sky or the ocean; I don't trust the color blue."_

Deidara raises an eyebrow to this.

_"So what do you trust?"_ he asks, as if to challenge Sasori.

The redhead sighs and looks away, over the side of the bird, down into the endless blue beneath him. He then looks up, to the endless blue above him. He is surrounded, Deidara notes with interest and suddenly wonders how Sasori has managed to remain relatively calm up here, surrounded by something he cannot trust, when trust is one of the most important things to Sasori.

_"I don't trust blue,"_ he says slowly, returning his gaze to Deidara, and smirking again, _"I trust that you wouldn't take me somewhere dangerous."_

Sasori should have realized that something is wrong upon seeing his blonde partner's smirk, a mischievous twinkle in his blue eyes. Fear grips him as he watches Deidara make his signature hand sign, the lips whisper 'katsu.' The bird they were previously traveling on disappears with a soft 'poof' and the two are sent into free fall, with no control, no power.

The puppeteer feels Deidara grab his cloak and maneuver the two so that he is on the bottom. Sasori's eyes are still open as he watches the ocean approach them at increasing speed. Logic tells him that they would fall straight into the waters, the force probably harming Deidara, shock and the depth to which they would sink causing them to drown and die out here where no one would ever find them.

Had it been any other situation, that would have been Sasori's thought process and he would have summoned puppets to try to save them.

But he is with Deidara and he trusts him.

And that is why when he sees something white appear moments before they would hit the water, he smirks. Their landing is soft as a result of the clay, and as soon as Deidara has landed, the clay hardens and it turns into, surprisingly, a whale. The redhead sits up, allowing his partner to as well, looking at the creature with a raised eyebrow.

_"I can't believe you made a whale."_

_ "You still trust me, danna?"_

His partner is still smirking as Sasori looks at him. He sighs, bringing a hand up to his face exasperatedly.

_"Just because I trust you doesn't mean I like what you do, brat."_

Deidara laughs as the whale turns around and begins to head back to shore, back to the campsite Deidara had dragged Sasori out of because he wanted to go flying before they would sleep and return to the base the next day. He looks up at the sky, the blue is now gone and replaced with the brilliant warm hues of red, orange, purple, and yellow, like a gradient effect spreading over the canvas of the sky. He smiles and he looks at the ocean. The blue waters are no longer as blue; they reflected the colorful sky above them. He then looks at Sasori's hair, the brilliant red much more intense than any red in the sky or ocean currently, the red that he is in love with.

Deidara likes blue because it calms him. It makes him terrified, exhilarated, calm, and happy. Blue gives him a paradoxical feeling that he loves.

**Author's Notes: I rewrote this three times… I'm starting to detest the color blue… I always thought the Akatsuki cloak had a zipper or something. Until I saw Sasori slowly unbutton it in a very suggestive manner…**

**While on the internet instead of doing my homework, I read that SasoDei has been proven canon. …Is this true? Apparently it's because 'SasoriXDeidara' was written in a game guide or something… I mean, not that I don't want this to be true, but… that means their relationship is canon?**

**Anyway, thank you for reading, please review!**


	6. Indigo

**.disclaimer: don't own.**

_**.color: **__indigo._

_**.genre:**__ romance._

_**.word count**__: 1,717._

_**.summary:**__ "but tonight, under the indigo sky, he found happiness."_

* * *

><p><strong>.indigo. <strong>_the color of infinity; used for healing, sleep, inner harmony and rest; symbolizes wounded pride, the last twilight, self-mastery and spiritual realization_

* * *

><p>"Why is the sky indigo?"<p>

"Because it wants to be. Now shut up, brat."

He heard the sound of the sleeping bag being moved and when he looked over, he saw that Sasori had turned on his side so he was away from him. The smell of smoke still lingered from the put out fire and the light from the bright moon illuminated his surroundings: the burnt out camp fire, Hiruko perched creepily close to Sasori with chakra strings around him to prevent him being stolen, their bags by their sleeping bags, and, if he squinted, he saw the puppets and clay sculptures surrounding them in a circle.

They didn't believe in bringing tents because they were large and bulky, so they used their own masterpieces to protect them at night. Sasori's puppets would sense intruders and alert the puppet master himself and fight just long enough for them to escape; once they did, with a single flick of his finger, Deidara's sculptures would explode and no one would know that Akatsuki was ever there.

The younger male folded his hands behind his head and looked up at the oddly colored sky. Usually it would be black or dark blue instead of this shade of indigo that filled the canvas called the sky. He didn't mind it; it was a pretty color. He knew that if Sasori wasn't in such a terrible mood, he would enjoy it too because as artists, they appreciated the beautiful colors that nature could produce.

Their mission had been relatively simple: steal a scroll from a group of shinobi that was delivering it. While they did succeed in obtaining the scroll, Sasori had messed up; he had failed to notice a fourth team member come out of nowhere and managed to harm them both. Deidara had a gash on his stomach, the pain only numbed by a multitude of Sasori's medicines (he made sure to not say poison when administering them to the terrified blonde) and Sasori received a hole straight through his side, having crawled out of Hiruko earlier because Deidara almost got himself killed.

No matter how many times Deidara assured Sasori that it was fine, no it didn't hurt, everyone messes up, Jesus fucking Christ just get over it you whiny idiot, the redhead proceeded to sulk. Deidara honestly didn't care that he had gotten hurt, something that Sasori never admitted as part of his reasons to sulk but Deidara knew it anyway. Besides, he had told him, it was his fault that Sasori wasn't in Hiruko and had gotten hurt. If he had been more careful, Sasori wouldn't have needed to rescue him.

He sighed again, wondering just how strong what Sasori gave him was. A few hours had passed and they were both bandaged up and he felt completely fine. In fact, Deidara had stared at his own wound and actually poked at it, but felt no pain. It was slightly unnerving, but he accepted it; he'd rather feel nothing than feel an explosion of pain.

That shinobi died a very painful death, he remembered suddenly, being impaled with Sasori's poison tipped weapons and finally exploded with Deidara's clay. He smirked. _Bastard deserved it for thinking he could harm Akatsuki and get away with it._

"Danna, un," he said suddenly, breaking the silence that had been hovering over them for so long.

"Go to _sleep_," was the response that he had expected but already knew he was going to ignore.

"I'm not tired."

"You should be after today."

"Are you ever going to get over it, un?"

"Go to sleep, brat."

Deidara rolled his eyes and looked over, taking out one hand from under his head and picking up the eye scope that was next to him. He put it to his eye and looked upwards, smiling slightly as the constellations became bigger and clearer. "Danna," he said again, his voice almost covered by the chorus of crickets and owls in the background, desperate for any reason to have the person next to him hold a conversation with him, "Why do you think art is eternal, un?"

"Because it is," was the short, muffled answer.

"See," he heard a soft groan from Sasori, a silent plead for him to just _shut up,_ but he ignored it, "Art represents happiness, un. That we both agree on, no? And happiness… is temporary. It never lasts. It's there and then it's gone; it's impossible to hold on to happiness. If you're lucky you get several instances of it, but… it never lasts, un. So that's why art is fleeting."

Sasori didn't answer and Deidara thought he was being ignored again, deciding to silently peer pressure Sasori into answering instead of verbally making him talk. He adjusted his eye scope so that the magnification intensified and peered around more, looking for constellations, until Sasori spoke again.

"That's the stupidest thing you've ever said, brat."

"Please defend your position, Sasori no asshole."

He heard a scoff and out of the corner of his eye, saw a hand come out from the sleeping bag and mess up the already messy red hair. "Happiness is eternal. Art is eternal. That's all there is to it."

This interested Deidara; he looked over in surprise, eyebrow raised. "You think happiness is eternal, un?"

"Do you not understand Japanese?" Sasori retorted, his back still to Deidara. "Yes. It's eternal. Once you find it, it stays with you forever. It never has to be at its peak, but once you find happiness, it's with you."

"…Have you ever found happiness, un?"

"That's none of your concern. Shut up and go to sleep."

One thing Deidara had learned about Sasori was that when he said to be quiet, he meant it. His red hair didn't represent his temper by coincidence, as the blonde had learned very early on in their partnership. But Sasori also learned, very early on in their partnership, that Deidara listened to no one except Pein, whom he openly mocked sometimes too. So when the blonde began to speak again, Sasori couldn't say he was surprised.

"You know, you need to get over yourself, un. Stop licking your wounds."

"I am not sulking."

"I never said sulking, un."

"You implied it."

"You were pouting basically this entire evening, un."

"I was _not._"

"Look, now you're whining. Is this what old lady Chiyo had to deal with, un?"

"Shut _up_," he growled and he flipped onto his back, face turned to glare at Deidara, who lazily smirked over, pleased he finally elicited some kind of an emotion from his partner. "Who are you to tell me how to deal with failure?"

"But you didn't fail," he answered, shrugging, "We succeeded the objective of the mission, un. We killed him and the others. I'd say that's quite successful, un."

"We didn't escape unscathed," Sasori muttered and Deidara could almost feel the shame creeping up on him again. That was the thing with Sasori: he brushed off success and hung onto failure like chakra strings. He was insanely hard on himself if he wasn't perfect and frankly, Deidara couldn't understand why.

"But we're alive, un," Deidara countered immediately, "And that's what matters."

"Why won't you let this go?" he almost groaned and Deidara had to stifle a laugh at his exasperation, so obvious even though he couldn't see his danna's eye roll.

"In case you haven't noticed, danna, this is me trying to be nice to you and comforting you. So shut up and accept my kindness."

This caught Sasori by surprise, signified by his lack of an immediate answer. He didn't hate Deidara (he far from hated him but would never admit it) but kindness was not something that was common in their relationship. Their partnership and slight friendship was built on taunts and arguing; they made a formidable duo and deep down they respected each other, but to admit it was rare. "Why… are you nice to me then?" he asked softly, feeling as if he knew the answer but wanted to confirm it.

He heard a laugh from Deidara, and when he spoke, his heart did funny things and if he still had a stomach, Sasori knew it would be lurching. "Because I like you, un. A lot. I probably love you. So when I see you like this, I can't help but want to make you feel better. Because," he turned to him and Sasori felt as if a magnetic attraction forced his eyes to look at his partner's crystal blue ones, "The danna I like is prideful and annoying, not pitiful and sulking."

"I am _not_ sulking," Sasori countered immediately and realized his tone wasn't exactly confident. If he had a real body, he was fairly certain he would be blushing, but his brain immediately squashed the though. Akasuna no Sasori did _not_ blush and definitely not because of _Deidara._ He heard sounds of someone moving around and when he looked over, he saw that Deidara he rolled over and was, probably, finally going to sleep. The redhead almost flipped over to get the sleep he desired because of his bad mood but found it was dissipated, and a feeling of serenity instead replaced it.

He smirked.

"Brat."

"Hmm, un?" Evidently, judging by Deidara's rather quick response, he had been anticipating being addressed.

Sasori faltered momentarily, but sighed, smiling softly. "I have found happiness." Happiness was eternal but it was so difficult to find. Though it was permanent, it had to be achieved first and Sasori had no idea if he achieved it. He fell in love and that made him happy, but the idea of not being loved the same way didn't make him happy. So had he been half happy? Or did this not count and he had to wait? But tonight, under the indigo sky, he found happiness. Under the sky of an unusual, beautiful shade that he just realized the beauty of, he found the one thing that humanity spent eternity looking for.

In those four words he included a silent message, words he'd never say but words he felt so strongly. And judging by Deidara's laugh, he was relieved to know that his partner had figured it out because, after all, he was rather bright.

"It's about time, un."

**Author's Notes: I'm pretty surprised I updated this out of everything else too. Probably because it's so close to completion… just one more! It's on the short side but I wrote this in less than an hour and I wanted to write something lighthearted. I hope you enjoyed it, please review!**


	7. Violet

**.disclaimer: don't own.**

_**.color: **__violet_

_**.genre:**__ romance_

_**.word count**__: 2,653._

_**.summary:**__ "don't keep me waiting, brat." "i wouldn't dare, danna." a new beginning after a violet colored end._

* * *

><p><strong>.violet. <strong>_associated with wisdom, dignity, independence, creativity, mystery, magic, and royalty; symbolizes power, nobility, luxury, and ambition; conveys wealth and extravagance_

* * *

><p>This was their love.<p>

Quiet, serene, invisible. Passionate, undying, eternal.

_"Sasori, you will accompany Itachi and Kisame to recruit your new partner."_

_ "I work better alone."_

_ "Not acceptable. We work in two man teams. Now go."_

He remembered the first meeting, scowling inside Hiruko at how painfully young he was. Sasori was thirty two at this point; now he had to work with this sixteen year old? He was fifteen when he officially left Suna and turned himself into a puppet, fifteen when he realized everything he had to know about the world. At fifteen he was wise beyond his years, hardened by his childhood. This person, this _child,_ this sixteen year old was just that: a sixteen year old.

He smirked as he watched him fall so easily to Itachi's Sharingan, satisfaction flooding through him as the four made the two day long trip back to the hideout, the blonde saying nothing only scowling and looking down. He never once tried to escape; at least he kept his word, Sasori thought dryly, that was good. The one kind thing Sasori did do was offer him Hiruko's cloak at night when it was raining and the kid had nothing as he was dragged away before he could even think about bringing anything with him.

_"Brat," _the nickname had stuck immediately, _"Use this. Don't catch a cold. That would slow us down."_

_ Sasori used Hiruko's tail to offer the cloak to him, growing more and more impatient as Deidara didn't take it. Maybe he was asleep, it occurred to him, and he turned Hiruko's head to look but just saw Deidara staring at Hiruko, blue eyes wide. And despite his dislike for him, Sasori couldn't help but smirk, feeling as proud as he always did when someone admired his art, usually moments before their death._

_ "Beautiful, un," he muttered, completely mesmerized. He reached out a hand, as if to try to touch the puppet, but immediately the poison tipped tail came down, narrowly avoiding him._

Kid has good reflexes. _"Take the cloak."_

_ "Tch," Deidara, obviously annoyed at being attacked, walked over to a tree with several leaves and sat beneath it, "I don't need your pity, un."_

That was the last kind thing Sasori did for Deidara out of the goodness of his heart. Any other kind gestures (namely saving his life) were for his own benefit; Pein would not be happy to find him another partner.

When they reached the hideout, Deidara was taken to Pein, where he was then briefed on the organization and expectations. He was given a cloak, his ring, the hat, and his room (Sasori was not pleased to learn that he no longer had a single.) He never said a single word through all this, only nodding his head to indicate he was listening and understood before sulking and retreating to his room where Sasori awaited, Hiruko being repaired and resting in a corner.

_"Do not touch anything on my side of the room. Do not snore. Do not cause a ruckus. Most of all, do not touch my puppets."_

_ The blonde nodded quietly and Sasori resumed working on Hiruko, his back towards Deidara. He felt the blonde look at him, no doubt surprised that Sasori himself was a puppet as well. He heard him shuffle towards the bed and lay down on it, the previously unused bed creaking underneath the new weight. A loud sigh, then silence._

_ Sasori already felt suffocated by this new presence but decided he would be able to deal with it._

They worked surprisingly well together, Sasori had to admit.

Sasori controlled the land and Deidara controlled the sky; both specialized in long range but were both more than capable for mid and short range attacks. They could sense each other's movements with just a glance, knowing that certain smirk to look out for and to jump out of the way because that smirk meant ultimate destruction for the opponent. Just as Sasori often got singed by Deidara's explosions, Deidara had, on more than one occasion, nearly died when being scraped by Hiruko's tail or Sasori's weapons. But every time Sasori had an antidote ready and the blonde never worried, fighting until he was numb and fell over, knowing his partner would bring him back. Just because they didn't like each other didn't mean they weren't loyal to one another.

However, to Sasori's immense displeasure, the more Deidara felt accustomed to the Akatsuki and the missions, the more he felt accustomed to Sasori and the more he talked. He was getting better at dodging Sasori's irritated attempts to kill him, laughing as he dodged or jumped and continuing to blabber about how he was hungry, how he was tired, and most annoyingly, his so called "art."

_"True art is fleeting, un."_

_ "You're stupid. Art is eternal."_

_ "Art is beautiful because it is instantaneous and can never be recreated; each true piece of art is irreplaceable. If art is eternal it gets worn down and forgotten; no one forgets something as amazing as an explosion. True art," Deidara grinned, throwing a newly formed bug into the air as Sasori watched irritably as the younger male held up two fingers, "is a bang, un. Katsu!"_

_ Sasori rolled his eyes, wiping a bit of soot away from his cheek. "True art withstands time; that makes it art and that makes it precious. Your silly explosions are not art. My puppets can withstand time. I can withstand time."_

_ "While I admit that your art is beautiful, it is not true art, danna, un. And I'm sure you can live forever," he paused, his glance lingering on the kanji on Sasori's chest meaningfully, his lips curling up into a smirk, "As long as no one realizes your one weakness is right there on you, un."_

These arguments were frequent and always ended the same way, with both parties annoyed. Deidara would usually then proceed to fly on his bird and Sasori continued to trudge along in Hiruko, the two finally meeting at their camp spot at the end of the day, sometimes a hotel if they were traveling for several days.

The first time Deidara realized Sasori had a human body, he realized it by accident. Sasori just came out of the shower in only a pair of sweatpants and a towel around his neck (Deidara neglected to process the fact that Sasori, the supposedly wooden puppet, had just taken a shower), and the ex-Iwa nin playfully exploded a small sculpture close to Sasori's shoulder, expecting only a tarnish on the explosion-proof wood.

Instead he realized that he had just given his partner a third degree burn and not only immediately found Kakuzu but also was awed that Sasori could be human.

Except it took a long time for Sasori to feel comfortable enough to use his human body again for fear of getting a much larger explosion next time.

When Deidara was finally able to get Sasori to stay in a room with him for more than thirty seconds, he ventured to ask why there was a human body and what the purpose was and how he transferred himself and why the body looked so creepily young (to Deidara, Sasori was both creepily old and creepily young.)

_"My puppet body is simply another weapon. Besides, it's easier to go undercover as a human; most people would recognize a puppet as something odd. As for how I go between the bodies, that's none of your concern, brat."_

_ "So," Deidara hesitantly poked Sasori's arm, to which the redhead glared at him, and smirked, "What can you do, un? Everything?"_

_ "A puppet master doesn't have to be a puppet."_

_ "Danna, I've got one more question, un."_

_ "What?"_

_ "Are you ticklish, un?"_

As it turns out, Sasori was not ticklish.

But Deidara was. But Sasori never used this to his advantage as that required far too much physical contact.

As time passed, they actually began to tolerate each other. Deidara's annoying little quirks (especially brushing the mouths on his hands) became something Sasori barely noticed or found entertaining just as Sasori's irritations became things that Deidara knew to avoid without thinking. The watch outs during battles became more than saving the hindrance of getting accustomed to a new partner and arguments were less hostile and more playful (with the same hostile tone and words.)

By the time three years elapsed, Deidara was nineteen and Sasori was thirty five; a sixteen year age gap that was so obvious at the beginning was now hardly realized. Just as their feelings grew stronger, so did their contempt for Akatsuki, the organization that stole Deidara's freedom and caged Sasori's. In the base these feelings were never expressed because they were so loyal to the organization that they hated, but outside, late at night, they exchanged these betraying words, expressing wishes to defect but how could they? Akatsuki was powerful; they were in it and they knew the full extent of the power.

_"I want to escape, un."_

_ "I know."_

_ "I hate it there, un."_

_ "I know."_

_ "It makes me want to die, un."_

_ Sasori stayed silent, looking up at the night sky, his puppet body not needing rest but rested anyway. "I… have an idea."_

_ The blonde propped himself up on an elbow immediately, turning to Sasori, his blonde hair let down and draping around his shoulders, his eyes interested. "To…" he could barely utter the words out of his dry throat, "to… leave?"_

_ "It will require time," Sasori turned to him, "And patience. And it's risky. But… it may work. We're going to need luck. Lots of it."_

_ "I will do anything," Deidara said immediately, the desperation showing in his eyes, "To leave. Anything, un."_

_ "Then… listen carefully."_

"Are you ready?"

That last conversation occurred so many months ago and occurred only once but it was ingrained in both of their memories. The chance of dying was high and the chance that they would be found would be higher; if Akatsuki slaughtered their loyal opponents so brutally, how would they slaughter their own betraying members? The thought made the two shudder but they ignored them; the freedom and of independence was worth it.

Now they were here, alone in their room, ready to depart for their final mission together: capture Gaara and then the plan would be set into place in the cave later. Deidara felt something within him wrench at the thought of what Sasori would do and when he glanced at him, the puppet master looked stoic on the outside but the blonde saw the worry beneath: the slight crease of the brow, the clenching of his fists, the sigh. This could be the last time they were together like this, the last night of peace that was unheard of on missions, especially S-rank missions like tomorrow's.

"Danna."

"Hm?"

And then he kissed him. There was no passionate embracing or hands in each other's hair, there was no panting, there were no fireworks. This was the touching of two pairs of lips to each other, of two criminals who were expected to have lost all their humane feelings a long time ago, of two people that were madly, deeply, passionately in love with each other but would never, for their lives, admit it because of their pride. Everything they had never expressed the last three years but felt exploded at that moment, one of their last nights together and they weren't sure if they would have anymore.

Sasori was the first to pull back and when Deidara opened his eyes, his partner gazed back with amusement, the blonde's unspoken confession understood and Sasori's acceptance sensed. There was no blush and when Deidara reached a hand up to brush against Sasori's soft cheek, the bomber smirked, to which the puppet master scowled at immediately. "What, brat?"

"I wouldn't expect Sasori no danna to be so gentle, un."

And suddenly Sasori's hand came out of nowhere and gripped Deidara's wrist so hard he thought it was going to break and he pushed him down on the bed, the springy mattress surprised at the sudden force. The other hand of Sasori's found Deidara's other wrist and he held them above the blonde's head, the harsh grip producing waves of dulled pain. The gentle kiss from earlier was wiped from Deidara's memory as this savage kiss dominated every one of his last senses. It hurt but it was a good hurt in a completely non masochistic way (but he wouldn't be surprised if it was in a sadistic sense for Sasori.)

It was passionate but it lacked feelings. It was rough but it was gentle. It was such a paradoxical kiss that Deidara didn't want to begin to try to understand it; all he knew was that it felt good and he enjoyed it. He fell limp, not struggling anymore against Sasori's grip, but when he felt his partner smirk, he realized what that symbolized.

"Like fuckin' hell, un," Deidara growled and he managed to flip them over, glad he caught Sasori off his guard. He pulled back but they were still close; Deidara's fringe brushed against Sasori's cheek softly, the long strands of blonde hair pooling with Sasori's short, red hair. Sasori looked amused and was smirking at Deidara's scowl.

"Huh, so you aren't a girl after all," the puppet master mused softly, faking surprise.

Deidara hung his head and his fringe covered his eyes and Sasori's fake surprise turned genuine at this, wondering if he had said something. "Dei—"

"Promise me," the blonde interrupted him, the words spilling out as he looked up the blue eyes pleading with Sasori's brown ones, "Promise me… tomorrow…"

Sasori blinked and relaxed, smiling as he reached a hand up to pull Deidara down, kissing him softly again before pulling back. "I promise."

Deidara hesitated before smiling genuinely, relaxing because he knew how when Sasori made a promise he would keep it. He got off of him and made up some excuse about needing to pack and rest for tomorrow, how he would need his energy to capture the Jinchuuriki. Sasori smirked as he slipped under the cover, saying the five words Deidara had heard so many times but held such a new meaning this time. "Don't keep me waiting, brat."

"I wouldn't dare, danna."

Then the lights turned off and it was silent, Deidara lost in his mind as he thought of everything that could go wrong. Sasori could really die. Pein could realize it. Deidara's clay clone may not be convincing enough. _He_ would die. Sasori would forget about their promise. Deidara wouldn't be able to find him. They would both get caught. They would both die.

But he pushed it all out of his mind as he got into bed, closing his eyes. The plan was that Sasori would "die" first and Deidara a few months later, just to avoid suspicion because two Akatsuki members dying together was so unheard of and rare, but this scenario happened just a bit after Sasori's "death." The blonde sighed quietly, telling himself to have faith in Sasori. His plan would work, it would, it _had to._

This end would be symbolic of their dignity, their independence, their creativity, their magic, their ambition. They would escape the organization no one else had dared to before and they would do it perfectly, stealthily. They would start over anew, together, happy, serene; just them and their love. A new beginning after a violet colored end.

And so, as Deidara flew out of the cave on his bird just a few days later with Kakashi and Naruto following him, he glanced behind him to look at Sasori, making eye contact for a brief moment and a soft, sad smile before the battle between him and his grandmother and the pink haired girl began.

_"Don't keep me waiting, brat."_

_ "I wouldn't dare, danna."_

**Author's Notes: Basically this drabble was created just so it could have a kiss scene in it. So that's why the transitions in and out were kind of awkward, haha, because I just had the scene and was determined to make something fit around it. I hope you enjoyed it even though it had very little to do with violet. Thank you for reading!**


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